The Pain of Love
by Immortal Ninja
Summary: A continuation of the musicalmovie. RaoulChristineErik love traingle. This is a depressing story but I feel it will serve as a good closure for all characters. More chapters to come!


Disclaimer: I don't own the story and I certainly did not have the genius to write the musical or direct the movie. I can only try to continue the characters in a story that I see possible or probable. Please don't sue! I am just a poor college student

Author Notes: My first attempt at writing a fiction based on my favorite musical in the entire world. I am a Phantom fanatic and proud of it. This introduction is a first draft and it only begins the story. I will not bash Raoul or make him evil. I will only point out certain character flaws and give good reason. I love these characters too much to change them! I also wrote this to have closure because ya gotta admit, Webber was cruel in his mysterious ending and Schumacher wasn't giving us much of anything. I hate tragedies…so here it goes.

Introduction: To Move Forward

The parlor had changed dramatically during the past few weeks. Christine looked about the room and smiled. Dark mahogany panels surrounded the lower half of the walls creating a border for the deep red wallpaper she had fallen in love with. Several gold plated lamps were carefully hung about to softly illuminate the paintings and furniture with their light. There were small pedestals at each corner with character statues of Roman mythology. Among the pictures placed on the walls, there were a few posters as well. Just old opera posters that Christine was unable to part with. The last detail was the marble fireplace. She was shocked with herself when she picked it out. It was an extravagant piece that must have cost her Raoul a fortune but he wrote the check. Smiling all the while. Christine never went near the fireplace.

When she had finished with the room, her friends laughed and told her the parlor was overly theatrical but their opinion only comforted her. After all, she was raised in an Opera house. It felt like home…in it's own way. It also served a purpose. It would create the perfect atmosphere to welcome new neighbors and friends into their lives. The statues and opera posters would give their guests ideas to start conversations. And that was exactly what Raoul and her needed. They had been away from society for too long. It was finally time for them to make their own future. And who knows? Maybe after making some connections, Christine might even find an opera house that would take her in as a new singer. And she would sing. _If only…_

Christine shifted uneasily against the armrest. She regretted the motion immediately when the untouched cool leather hit her warm back. A shiver of shock ran up her spine instantaneously, making her shoulders quake.

"Stupid chair." She felt a pair of warm eyes fall upon her form. With that simple reaction, Christine knew she had broken the comfortable drawn out silence between herself and her husband. He had been absorbed in his book, sitting in an identical chair only a few feet across from her. Sucking in a deep breath, she awaited the response.

"Christine, it is past 9."

"I know."

"Go to bed. The winter frost has already covered the windows and your chair is too far away from the fire. It is warmer upstairs." Christine opened her mouth to protest but the clock began to chime as if on cue. She snapped her mouth shut and waited for the bells to quiet.

As she watched the giant grandfather clock toll away, it suddenly dawned on her that this was the only original piece in the parlor. All the other furniture had been thrown out when they moved into this house three months ago. None of the furniture had aged very well since the last tenants' departure. The house itself was in dire need of repair when they had moved in….

Raoul had tried to talk her into staying at their old house out in the country until some major problems were fixed. Most wives would have gladly welcomed the chance to stay behind a little longer to give their house and good friends a proper goodbye. Christine refused. The country house was never her home. It had been a sanctuary for a time. A safe haven that Raoul and her escaped to for a few years. Three years. It took that long to bury the past and plan the future…and after a lengthy debate, Raoul finally agreed with Christine that Paris was going to be that future. So they returned to the very same city they ran from only three years ago.

The house they chose was located at the heart of the city. Christine fell in love with it immediately. It was grand, old, and filled with character that the neighboring houses lacked. Raoul had been uncertain at first, due to its close proximity with a certain burnt down opera house he wished to never lay eyes on again. Yet he could not deny his wife's open smiles and laughing eyes. He had not seen her this happy since…more innocent times.

The first week in the house had been horrible. There was a storm and the roof leaked causing drafts throughout the house. Raoul instantly regretted letting his Christine move in before repairs had been finished. However nothing he could say would force her out of the house. She wanted to spend the night in her new bedroom from then on and that was that. Her eccentric behavior nearly killed her, for the moldy furniture mixed with the cold air and caused an infection. She became violently ill within her first few days at the house but she still refused to leave it. Coughs wracked her body as her lungs slowly began to deteriorate. Her stubbornness was killing both her and her husband. Finally, when she was too weak to protest, Raoul rushed her to a local hospital. During the first night, the fever was so high that the Doctors had to tell Raoul there was little hope. Lung illnesses were seldom cured. This was to be her last hours on earth.

He stayed by her bedside the entire night, cursing the city that wanted to destroy their happiness. He swore that if she were to just get better again, he would indulge her every need, her every wish. Even if that meant agreeing to something that he had always feared. Raoul was not naïve. He knew her real reasons for returning to Paris. She wanted to sing again. She wanted a part of her old life back. The same part of her life that almost separated them forever. Her passion for music was something he could never replace. It is possible that it might even have rivaled her love for him. So Raoul knew then that he could never keep her from it. He could keep her from _him._ But never from the music. He would never have to see the day then when she would have to make a decision between him and her music. She had already sacrificed so much. He didn't think she had the strength to do it again. To chose him again. It was finally his turn to make a sacrifice. And what was to be Raoul's sacrifice? His piece of mind. For as long as Christine sang on stage, he would forever be looking over his shoulder towards the shadows. Trying to catch a glimpse of someone who probably died long ago. Dead or alive, the phantom would always be there. In Raoul's mind.

As quick as the eclipse of death came over Christine, it passed even quicker. Christine's fever finally broke the next morning to the Doctors' surprise. She was in great pain but there was suddenly a chance of recovery. The relief was overwhelming. Raoul wept over his wife's form, knowing full well his plead to God was heard…and his sacrifice would be accepted.

Unable to cope with his Christine's painful recovery, Raoul set to finishing the repairs on the house before she came home. It was an attempt to ease his guilty conscience over causing her near death and he was perfectly aware of that but Raoul could not cope with watching her agony. Every short breath out of her, every cough reminded him of his failure as her protector. He was her husband, her guardian, and this was not the first time he had failed in keeping her safe.

Raoul finished the repairs on their house within a week but it was not until two weeks later that Christine was finally given leave from her doctors to return home. Even after the hospital consent was given, Raoul was cautious. He knew his wife. She would push herself to the limits just to fool everybody that she was better. Sickness was something Christine would always refuse to acknowledge. Her father's death had caused that. He even considered the possibility that she had talked the doctors' into allowing her to leave them early. The moment he saw her pale, fragile, and defeated form in a wheelchair being pushed towards the carriage bound for home, he knew that his decision for a house nurse was well founded. So he had a nurse assigned to Christine to help insure a certain recovery or at least until after the winter passed. Raoul would be damned if he let her fall into a relapse due to Paris's unrelenting winter.

So here Christine was, two months later at the beginning of the winter season. Some of her old stamina had returned. She no longer needed the wheelchair that had confined her to lower house and guest rooms for so long. Her lungs had gotten used to the exercise of walking about the house, though the staircase was still a problem. Raoul or the nurse had to offer their arm when she dared to climb the stairs. By the time she reached the top step, she was short of breath and barely able to stand upright. Raoul's latest fear was the thought of her attempting it alone. One little dizzy spell and Christine could tumble backwards leaving her spine and neck exposed to the unforgiving sharp edges of the marble steps. The vivid picture of finding Christine lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs haunted his thoughts daily. He made sure to never leave her alone.

Going outside was also out of the question until the frost of winter melted so that left Christine with only one choice of amusement until the dreadful season passed. Remodeling. Raoul had decided to give his wife full control of what was to be done to the inside of the house. She gladly accepted the offer and before he knew it, an average of ten workers walked through the house daily. Two architects had also followed Christine around like puppy dogs for a time, agreeing with what was to be done, endlessly complimenting her on her good taste in fashion and necessity. Raoul had smiled at this. Of course they loved her ideas. This would be the most extravagant house on the block and would make these men rich beyond their dreams. Raoul's family fortune would provide Christine and him a house to be envied. Being a Vicomte had its advantages.

The idea of great sums of money slipping through his fingers did not worry Raoul in the least. It was his gift to her. His angel. She deserved the world and he would give it to her. He knew that money mattered little when it came to Christine. They had fallen in love with each other long before the knowledge of poverty and wealth came into play with their lives. All the same, he showered her with gifts. For at the time, it was all he could do. It had been months since Christine and he had experienced the intimacy of their marriage and her weakness would prevent them from joining for a quite a few weeks more. The tension was there and quite a few times he felt the pressing urge to touch her but a gasp of breath followed by a few coughs stopped him in his place. He refused to let any form of passion put her health in jeopardy again. For heaven's sake, she could barely make it up the stairs.

Christine was very much aware of the strain her poor health was causing her beloved Raoul. His constant frustration and bad temperament made him act like a spoiled child. He was a young man being denied pleasures that he had grown used to having frequently in the country with his wife the last three years. In an effort to make up for her poor physical state, their bedrooms were remodeled first with an adjoining door. She made sure that Raoul knew she was also thinking of him constantly and would not hesitate to provide him all the comforts a wife gives once she got better. So lately in the middle of the night, she had been sneaking into his room to lie beside him. The warmth of body against body was comforting to the both and had satisfied their needs up

until now.

The thought immediately woke Christine from her reverie in the parlor. The last bell of the clock must have sounded ages ago signaling that it was indeed 9 o'clock. Quite a late hour for her to be up. She glanced towards her husband who was once again drawn into his book. Had he forgotten that he had just told her to go upstairs? It appeared so. The poor man had given up arguing with her lately. Christine admitted that her stubbornness mixed with her sickness was most likely the cause of it. He just didn't want to deal with it anymore. He seemed tired these past few days and the nights that she snuck into his bed she could tell were getting harder for him. He would move away from her body and for the first time last night, he locked the door so she could not enter. Locked the door!

Christine had cried in her bed until morning. There she made a desperate decision. They could not keep on living this way and last through the winter. His regret and shame at allowing her to become ill was making it difficult for her to comfort him. It was destroying a relationship that took three years to salvage in the countryside. She would fix this and Raoul would listen. Even if it meant doing something that he would be angry with her for. She had to take the risk. If she was strong enough, it might make things easier for the both of them these next few weeks of her recovery.

Christine slowly got up from her warm chair and set aside the book she had never even glanced at the last few hours. Tightening the robe around her, she tightened her resolve as well.

"Raoul, I am going to bed."

Her husband sighed in relief and began to put aside his reading glasses. Christine did not watch what he did next for she was already exiting the room at a quick pace. Taking a steady breath she walked out the hallway towards the looming staircase.

"Christine, wait for me at the bottom of the stairs. I will be right there." She heard his voice call out to her in a nonchalant manner. He was taking his time to turn off the lights in the room before he accompanied her. He was completely unaware of what she was about to do. Of course he was unaware. He had always expected her to wait for him at the bottom of those damn stairs. Well tonight that would change.

"No, Raoul. I will not wait." She took the steps one at a time, sure footed, all the while breathing steadily in through her nose and out her mouth. She heard Raoul knock something over in the parlor.

"No! Christine! Wait!" Raoul's panicked voice cried out. The sound of his fear and desperation made Christine stop for a moment. So familiar it seemed. Her mind flashed back to a graveyard filled with cold statues. Snow was everywhere and she was cold. She was no longer climbing the steps of her home alone. She was now being lead by a voice towards her father's grave. It had been her Angel of music, calling to her. She had wanted to see her father so badly and she knew the Angel would protect her. Her Angel…

"Christine! Christine, listen to me!" Christine turned around. She was not in the graveyard. She was walking up the stairs of her home and Raoul was below her, slowly climbing up towards her. The fear in his eyes and voice shocked her. For that was the same face she had seen in the graveyard years ago. But there was nothing to fear now. Her Angel of Music was not at the top of the stairs ready to take her away. Something was at the top of the stairs. Something she needed to save and Raoul had no say this time.

Christine turned on her heel, ignoring the cries of her husband, and ran up the twisting marble staircase. _Breathe in, breathe out_. She could feel her body begin to weaken at the sudden exertion. Her muscles instantly protested and her lungs. Oh God did her lungs burn. She could feel a sort of dizziness creep up, distorting the steps in front of her. Gasps began to escape her mouth making her frantic. What if she could not catch her breath? These doubts began to cloud her mind as she lost her footing, stumbling forward for a few seconds. Raoul's silent yell was not lost on her ears. She could feel his breath against the nape of her neck, his pounding footsteps getting closer. Still she forced herself onward, refusing to let him catch her. _Five steps more_.

Christine collapsed at the top of the stairs. Her nurse had awakened to the cries of Raoul and was rushing down the hall towards her. A few of the new house servants were also standing outside their doors, frozen in fear and surprise. The commotion had awakened all of them. Raoul finally reached Christine and his first instinct was to cradle her coughing body to his chest.

"Damn it, Christine, what were you thinking?" Raoul cried into her hair. He could have lost her. One miscalculated step and she would have come tumbling down. Forcing one of his worst fears into reality. Christine's coughs eventually subsided and she smiled up at him through very exhausted eyes.

"I-I…made it, Raoul. I am fine now. I don't need the nurse anymore, Raoul...please make her go home. I want to be with you tonight…don't make me sleep alone. Don't lock the door…" Her pain filled confession only made Raoul cry harder. His neglect had pushed Christine to this desperation.

The nurse turned back, recognizing the start of a private moment. She knew the Vicomte could take care of his wife. In all her years, she had never seen a husband with so much love and devotion. Yet it was so sad to witness their troubles, especially with them being so young. Mortality seemed to cling to the lovers. It was a Greek tragedy just waiting to happen. And all this, the nurse observed in just two months and two months only, for it appeared she was no longer needed. The Vicomte would not deny his wife's request tonight, judging from the heart-wrenching scene behind her. It was time for her to pack her suitcases. She just prayed they would find a form of happiness in the future without consequence.

Raoul lifted Christine into his arms and slowly walked down the hall towards his room. A few of the servant girls blushed and ducked back inside their rooms. There was sure to be some good gossip down in the kitchen tomorrow morning. However, neither of the lovers were aware of the scene they were making. Should it have bothered them? It had been a long night. All Christine could do was cry into Raoul's shoulder. She was oblivious to everything but her silent plea. _Please God, let us be happy in this house. After all the struggles and painful memories…let this survive. I want to live in his arms. Only have love for him. So let the past die!_

But love is never that selfish and is certainly never that fair…

TO BE CONTINUED

Muse: So what do you think? I would love to hear any comments, ideas, etc you might have on this introduction. Half of it was a flashback so there was little dialogue but that will definitely change. I am basing this on a musical after all. Oh, and I had to edit it on my own so there are quite a few mistakes. Sorry if I am also very wordy. I love British Literature


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